


But I know you want me, too

by 2dick2down



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Hung Keith, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rough And Tender Sex, Shower Sex, Spanking, Top Keith (Voltron), best of both worlds, season 7 garrison sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15731610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2dick2down/pseuds/2dick2down
Summary: Keith glanced up suddenly out of impulsiveness and a burning curiosity – edging on recognition, déjà vu, something – then stilled. His fingers froze over the fly of his uniform pants, hanging half-unzipped. Standing under the steaming spray, back arched obscenely, was Lance.





	But I know you want me, too

**Author's Note:**

> [borderline.](https://genius.com/Ariana-grande-borderline-lyrics)

It was nearing one-thirty in the morning, everyone comfortably retired to the dorms, when Keith finally made time to shower.

It had been a long, dull day, full of longer, duller encounters with the cadets. Another day devoted to coordinating, devising, strategising. The Holts always led the charge, and Shiro stepped in when necessary, but there was still a certain level of expectation shunted to Keith, as Voltron’s newest black paladin.

He had the helpless and recurring though that he wasn’t cut out for this. Not like Shiro, who could breeze through the boring without breaking a sweat. Who radiated calm in the midst of public panic. Keith wasn’t like that. He could feel his restlessness like a lump beneath the skin – a resentful tumour.

Some would call it a tumour of his own making.

It was just as well. He knew he wasn’t the only one. Hunk seemed to check out after the first few hours of tedium and Lance broadcasted his unrest like a caged bird. Keith could usually tell he was in the same boat, just by the back-and-forth flicker of his eyes, the constant motion kept at bay in his drumming fingers, his quiet sighs, the _tap tap tap_ of his boots against carpet. In classrooms, he always looked like he was itching to brandish his bayard. Keith felt a similar discontent.

This was one of his ways of expelling it. The solitude soothed. He preferred his privacy, anyway, coveted it like a little kid clinging to a security blanket. It felt the most familiar. Worn with age. Forgiving, maybe, like coming home to a caress. He knew the late hour would permit him at least a shred of that.

With everyone asleep, he’d have his pick of any nozzle he liked and absolutely no one to gawk at or ask about the scars he’d accumulated since becoming a paladin. That, paired with the fact that small talk would not be required of him, were the motivating factors behind his choice to wash up at the late hour.

He was struggling out of his rank uniform shirt when he stepped inside. The space was multifunctional, doubled as a boy's bathroom and a changing room, complete with stall-less showers, vinyl tile, grayscale lockers, and benches. Keith took it all in with a single brief look. He hadn’t missed this place. It called up too many stale memories. Mostly, of alienation from his age group. Literally and figuratively.

Still, it was preferable to what he’d gotten used to. After so many years spent showering and freshening up in space, the novelty of Altean technology had worn off. Keith would relish the opportunity to rinse off under hot water without fear of a timer or computerised jets interfering with his alone-time.

Just a regular old human shower. It felt thrilling, in a way, and strangely nostalgic beneath the thrill.

He glanced up from his unbuttoning and paused at the mouth of the locker room. A pile of discarded clothing lay thrown haphazardly over a nearby bench. _Oh,_ he thought, a little dumbly. Clearly his brief look around hadn’t told him all he needed to know. He squinted, listening in. A flare of annoyance went through him as he registered the splash of running water and a high, humming voice bouncing off of the walls.

So someone else shared his nocturnal habits. Or else just really, really wanted the showers to themselves, for the acoustics if not the privacy. Great. He would have to make awkward eye contact with them for sure.

Keith was determined to make the most of his time and he sure as hell wasn’t surrendering the space to whoever had him beat. He’d carved out a little time-slot for himself, in the thick of an intergalactic war. No way was he giving that up.

Resolved, he continued down his original path, towards his old locker aisle. He still remembered his assigned number. _78,_ top row. He stopped in front of the little silvered plaque and began to untuck and remove his shirts, keeping his eyes respectfully averted.

At his back, the quiet singing grew more dulcet. Something about liking the way someone tasted. Top 40 nonsense, probably. It was a song Keith couldn’t place by ear and wanted very badly to insult to their face, time permitting.

“Please, baby, _ohh,”_ the voice sang, smooth as rain.

Something tickled at Keith’s brain. _I can carry a tune better than a canary._ Who’d said that? Not Hunk. His showers were short, strictly involved humming. Pidge didn’t utter a peep under water, or if she did, kept too quiet to be heard through the bathroom door. Keith suspected she took power naps during her showers.

There was only one person it could have been.

Keith glanced up suddenly out of impulsiveness and a burning curiosity – edging on recognition, déjà vu, something – then stilled. His fingers froze over the fly of his uniform pants, hanging half-unzipped. Standing under the steaming spray, back arched obscenely, was Lance.

His freckled face was thrown back, given to the water with abandon. Brown fingers combed through his sopping hair. The blue of his eyes was for the moment hidden. He’d closed them against the spray in blissful unawareness, his wiry body angled away from Keith.

And he was still singing his stupid song, right into the streaming water.

It was a different kind of nudity than Keith was used to. Not a flash of brown skin that Keith had turned his head from too quickly, or repressed into unreliability. Not the naked body under blood and bandaging, broken beyond recognition. Nothing like the few glimpses he’d caught after a mission, when Lance was too impatient to shuck his armour off in the privacy of his bedroom and Keith caught an impression of his navel or lower back before he disappeared behind a door. It wasn’t the nudity of a midnight fantasy. Those were never as good as the real thing.

It was the nudity of knowing you were alone and enjoying every second of it. Unconcern made Lance more beautiful, turned him into a fairy tale tableau. Keith had the strange idea that he’d happened upon a water sprite bathing beneath a waterfall. This was that. Lance, drenched and bare as the day he was born, soaking himself clean. A full-body affair. Keith should have known. He did everything with his whole body. He was flexible and sinewy even when standing.

Keith’s belly went liquid. Inside his boxers, his cock stirred to life, giving a curious twitch against his thigh. He cleared his throat, quiet and uncomfortable about it, and tried very politely to resist the urge to look lower, out of respect for a fellow teammate.

Except his eyes were traitorous and already coasting down Lance’s dimpled lower back, without permission from his brain to do so. They roamed over the irresistible curve of his firm little ass, the bouncy cheeks that plagued Keith’s dreams and always, inexorably drew his eye whenever Lance walked ahead of him on missions or bent over while in Keith’s field of vision. Water droplets trickled tantalisingly from the soft mounds of muscle.

As he watched, frozen where he stood with horror and arousal alike, Lance stroked his hands down his body, unaware of his current audience and all the more erotic for it. He lathered and scrubbed soap away, palms skating over the buds of his tight brown nipples, down his abs, rubbing over and between his thighs as he bent briefly to get to his shins and calves. The movement exposed the tight, whorled ring of flesh tucked away between his asscheeks.

Keith felt his mouth flood with saliva. His cock jerked hard in his trousers, pulling up and pressing eagerly against the fabric in a thick bulge. The haze in his head grew to be unbearable and he dug his fingers into his palms to tether himself to his body, lost and churning with arousal. A quiet noise of want almost came out through his teeth. He bit down on it before it could, but the internal effects of a naked Lance were not so easy to curb.

In his head, he saw Lance split open on four fingers. Lance bouncing on Keith’s cock. Lance pushing that luscious little ass into Keith’s palms and singing a new tune as Keith opened him up with his tongue good and slow and sloppy. It was the midnight fantasies again. Unfiltered, impossibly pale against the reality of the thing.

Lance was already rising back up, going lax and lazy like he was putting on a private show. His palms glided slowly up his body, paying particular attention to his chest. Keith didn’t realise he was still singing, so distracted was he by the movement of Lance’s hands, until the song cut off abruptly and dissolved into a little gasp. The sound grew to be something sweeter, more solid – a moan. Lance turned his face up into the spray, mouth open, and slid a hand down to his cock, half-hard at his hip. He curled his fingers around it, working it to full-mast as Keith stood there and watched, frozen on his feet. The long, slender length rose, pushing through his fingers.

“Oh,” Lance moaned, one hand going to his hair and the other palming himself faster. “Fuck …”

Keith pressed a palm to the front of his trousers, applying pressure to the hard ridge of his cock. He thought he might beat his arousal back that way. Only, it wasn't working and now he wanted to laugh at his own optimism. His erection wasn’t going anywhere. It was still hardening against his hand, in fact.

“Oh, god,” Lance moaned then, louder.

When the hand in his hair trailed down his body, cupped and squeezed his nipple a moment, then snaked around to the small of his back and lifted one of his asscheeks up to toy with his dripping wet rim, all while stroking himself, a dagger of heat shot straight through Keith.

“Fu-uck …” Lance whined. “Keith …”

Keith’s bones grinded to a horrified halt, body locking up on instinct. For a moment, he was certain he’d been caught, that Lance knew Keith was watching him bring himself off, that he’d thrown Keith’s name into his little routine as some sly joke meant to humiliate.

But then Lance moaned again, a lilting sound, and he rubbed his middle finger over his hole with a quick little intake of air and Keith decided if this was a joke it was the sexiest and most elaborate in the history of comedy.

A new moan slid from his mouth, high and airy. Keith reeled, his cock fattening up further. His whole world was in disarray. He thought he might fall over soon, from the sheer volume of blood leaving his head. If he could bottle and regularly revisit a sound, this would be the one. He hadn't imagined he'd ever get to hear that sarcastic, contrary mouth doing something so filthy. It was mind-meltingly hot.

And now forever imbued into his brain.

Maybe porn was onto something. Probably, Lance was better than porn, because he was real and standing ten feet away and enjoying himself to such a degree that he couldn’t help – or perhaps wasn’t aware of – the noises of intense pleasure spilling from his mouth.

His face crumpled as he inched a finger into his ass, front teeth sinking into his ripe bottom lip. The finger disappeared between his cheeks. He let go of his cock to steady himself against the tile, rose up onto tiptoe like he was looking to improve the angle, and started pumping the finger in and out of his pert little ass. His head lolled, mouth dropping open on Keith’s name. It came out desperate this time, the syllables stretched in ways Keith hadn’t thought possible, and that. That did it.

Keith swayed drunkenly, braced himself hard against the nearest locker without realising its last occupant hadn’t shut it completely before leaving. The metal door slammed closed beneath his weight with a burst of noise, loud over the sound of water. It startled Lance, who yanked the finger from his ass and whirled towards the source.

Keith froze like a deer caught in headlights. He could feel the blood leaving his face (to rush down to his cock, probably). He knew how this looked: terrible. Damning. Undeniably incriminating. He, leader of Voltron and ostensible black paladin, was leaning shirtless against locker number 79, his eyes hooded and trained intently on Lance’s naked body. He was squeezing his cock through his trousers, the outline long, thick, obvious through the dark fabric where it was protruding like a promise.

A promise that said ‘I want to fuck your tight ass more than I care to admit.’

Lance inhaled sharply, cheeks darkening with a flush of realisation. His eyes darted over Keith in rapid-fire appraisal. 

A slew of excuses tumbled into Keith’s head, each one more nonsensical than the last. He spoke none of them aloud and felt his face grow a steady and mortified red under the weight of Lance’s stunned stare.

Lance drank in Keith’s body language, the hand cupped to his cock over his trousers. Keith forced himself not to turn from the stare. The damage had already been done. Lance’s eyes – huge and blue and searching – lingered at Keith’s rigid cock with interest. Then they narrowed dangerously, in that way Lance had about him that said he was bracing himself for something idiotic or inadvisable without consulting Keith first.

(That role reversal was still taking some getting used to.)

His shock thawed into something more calculating. Without a word, he leaned back against the beige tile. He tilted his head delicately, like a songbird sizing up a cat. Slowly, as though testing the waters between them, he gripped his cock. He slid his fist down the length with a startling slick sound and his eyebrows knitted, mouth falling open reluctantly at the feel of it.

 _“Ah,”_ Lance cried, soft as if it’d been torn from his throat, as he slid his fist back up, tight over the flushed head.

His head dropped back against the tile. The hollow of his throat was dewy with the shower’s fine mist. Keith wanted to lick it up, to set his teeth against the skin and bite down.

“Fuck,” he swore, in a voice like gravel. He tightened the hold he had on his own overeager cock.

Lance arched his back for Keith, hips jutting out. Dark lashes fluttering, he brought a hand up to his wet nipples. His pointer finger circled the dime-sized areola of his left, then rubbed the little nub erect. He pinched it between index finger and thumb, rolled it around without breaking eye contact, returning Keith’s riveted stare with a pouty whine. Lance’s nipples pebbled hard and puffy, one after the other. He palmed them with a moan, squishing the flesh filthily.

His thighs widened, chest swollen with need.

Keith clenched his teeth over a loud, unwilling noise trying to force its way out.

“Enjoying the view?” Lance called, mocking.

He wore a small smirk, was still playing with his nipples, stretching up onto the tips of his toes, twisting sideways for a profile view, this way and that, rolling his neck, head tossed back. Posturing seductively for Keith. He laid his temple to tile and fixed Keith with a sidelong stare, bangs curling wetly against his forehead. It was at once measuring and playful.

From this angle, the slope of his back as it rose into the soft swell of his plump little ass was devastating, smooth as rolling hills. He seemed to sense Keith’s eyes there, because he tugged his left cheek back and circled his rim with a soulful little sigh. Keith wasn’t falling for the innocent blink of his lashes. Lance knew exactly what he was doing.

This was – pornographic by design. Lance looked like every wet dream Keith had ever had, with his bedroom eyes and bitten-red lips.

“Cat got your tongue?” Lance said conversationally. “Or … oh … do you have any special requests for me, team leader?” A loaded silence followed. “C’mon. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Lance didn’t look like he expected a response. He looked like he’d already come to terms with this version of Keith – red-faced, silent as a grave – and was perfectly content to touch himself while Keith stood there and watched in appalled speechlessness. It was for this reason exactly that Keith opened his mouth.

“Turn around,” he said once he’d found his voice.

The demand came out low and dark. A near-growl, brooking no argument. It was something like his black paladin voice, he found. Rough on the ears and a bit Galra-like in its intensity.

Lance seemed to like it, because he shuddered and bit his lip. His eyes had dilated to pools of black rimmed with something only slightly blue. The pupils shivered wider. With a dancer’s grace, he pivoted and braced himself against the tile, hands spread. His back bowed and he canted his hips back like he was getting ready to take a cock or a tongue real deep, ass offered up.

“Like this?” he whispered, blinking coquettishly over his shoulder, his wet hole on display for Keith.

 _Yes, just like that, that’s perfect,_ Keith should have said, but all that came out was a croaking, “Fuck,” the second of its kind.

He worked his fly open fully, fingers shaking in their rush to relieve the ache from his cock, and shoved a frantic hand into his boxers. He spared not a thought for how wrong this was – accosting a teammate in the middle of a public bathroom while he was showering and ordering him to expose himself to Keith.

It felt like they were shedding their titles for the moment to return to the lousy, lust-laden teens they’d once been, before the war, before the mecha-robots, before the bloodshed and crying. Something about tonight was doubly intense. It was a return to the past as well as a careen into the future. Head-first, with hands outstretched, they were leaping in.

Keith wouldn't dwell on what it all meant. Not right now, when he had Lance naked and needy. Later. Now, Keith wiped his mind clean, giving Lance his full attention.

“Spread your legs wider,” he ordered.

Lance laid his head gently to his bent arms and obeyed, leaning forward an inch more and widening his stance. He fixed Keith with a sultry, over-the-shoulder look, his lashes long wisps against his cheeks. Then he reached a hand backwards and spread himself for Keith, fingers scissored open, so Keith could watch his ass clench emptily. His index finger circled his rim – lazy, almost taunting. It was like he was daring Keith to do something about it.

It was like. Like he was beckoning Keith inside.

Keith felt ready to vibrate out of his body.

Across from him, Lance applied himself to the slow and tender task of coaxing his ass open. He dipped a finger in, wiggling it down to the first knuckle. He wore his concentration at his eyebrows; they were furrowed adorably. A small wrinkle formed between them. He slid his finger deeper, appearing to meet little resistance, and finally the furrow faded into something more serene. His eyes drifted shut with a peaceful little flutter, mouth flexing open on a soft, _“Oh.”_ It turned into a plaintive moan.

He withdrew his finger, then shoved it back in with an impatient noise. Lance mashed his face against his forearm and began to fuck himself loose, lips parted. His eyes were heavy, held a faraway glaze that said he was ready, absolutely desperate for it, was perhaps imagining it was Keith’s cock inside of him. Keith had never seen him so docile.

It made his head spin.

“Yeah,” he groaned, breathlessly pleased, and began to touch himself in earnest.

Keith slid his palm over his stiff, leaking cock to the sight of Lance’s finger buried between his round asscheeks. He thumbed the slit where precome was welling, smeared it over the crown, down the length, easing the way, slicking himself with his own desire. His wet cock sung with pleasure. Keith pumped it hard, fist a feverishly moving mound through his trousers. He could feel the flow of blood, flesh hot to the touch.

Lance pressed a second finger inside of himself with a hum.

“Fuck,” Keith muttered and started pushing his shaft into the tight circle of his fist. No longer moving his hand, just thrusting, hips whipping. His cock slid through his fist, gloriously frictionless. He fucked into it harder, chasing the pace of Lance’s fingers. _“Ah._ Jesus.”

“Uhh,” Lance moaned, sinking his fingers in further, until they could go no more. His eyes zeroed in on Keith’s hand moving over his hard cock through his trousers and he slipped a third finger in, stretching his hole wide and yearning. “Keith …”

“Christ. You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Keith grunted, breath coming quick, broken through his grit teeth.

He fisted his engorged cock faster, the wet slap half-muffled through two layers of fabric. It was easy to match his rhythm to Lance’s now, their bodies syncing up to the same desperate tempo. Keith was woozy with wonder and with the imagined sensation of fucking into that beautiful, sinful little ass, tight and fit. It would probably clutch his cock like a glove.

Just like that, he was standing at the precarious edge, his balls drawn up tight with impending orgasm.

“Shit,” he muttered, jaw pulsing, as he slowed his hand and squeezed the base of his cock to edge himself, the tip smearing damply over the front of his boxers.

“Wanna see you,” Lance begged through a moan. Water dripped down his wet, perky little ass. “Your cock. Wanna see it. Please, Keith, _uh,_ lemme see it …”

Keith had been yanked into the great unknown, ushered into a dark, unfamiliar corner of his own pleasure. It was new, wicked with want. The stuff of bedroom fantasies brought to life. Of dreams, crawling into the golden light. He shook with it. Felt like he was in and around his body, floating above himself in a space so hopelessly turned on it thrummed through him like blood.

Lance’s soft voice was a beam of light through the murk. Keith's patience shattered. He felt himself moving, registered the thud of his own boots against tile as he strode into the warm spray, clothes soaked through in seconds, and located the warm, flesh-and-blood body the voice belonged to.

He caught Lance by the shoulder, yanked him out of his bow and forced him around until his back hit wet tile. His lips parted and the beginnings of a gasp fell free. Keith kissed him quiet, bringing their mouths together in something hard, hot, and open-mouthed. He splayed his big, callused hands over Lance’s body – one at his jaw, to hold him tilted up, the other at the small of his back, to keep him pressed close.

Lance melted into the touch, moaning sweetly against Keith’s mouth. He pushed up into a soft arch, back rounding where Keith’s fingers rested. Keith squeezed harder, held Lance tight to his bare chest, overcome with a fierce need to possess. He felt the tangle of Lance’s wet arms wrap around his broad shoulders, felt him nudge his hips forward where Keith was pinning him to the tile with his weight. Lance rocked forward as much as he could, rubbing their cocks together through Keith’s trousers, trying to ride Keith’s thigh with a needy little whine.

Keith swallowed the sound and dipped his tongue into Lance’s mouth to taste him. Lance opened for it at once, obedient, his nails dragging down Keith’s nape. He was enthusiastic, clumsy with the haste of his desire. Keith smiled into the kiss and retreated to drop a chaste peck to the edge of Lance’s lips.

Lance’s head stayed where Keith had tipped it back, holding the pose like he thought it might earn him more kisses. He panted softly against Keith’s mouth, eyelashes spiky with moisture. They lay in dark clumps against his cheeks.   

Keith chased a drop of water down Lance’s cheekbone with his mouth. When he’d successfully kissed it away, he pulled back, keeping his eyes carefully trained on Lance’s face. It had smoothed out into something lovely and wanton, wet with water. Open with trust, his lips bruised red. Keith took a breath and slid his splayed palm down, caressing Lance’s shapely little asscheeks to distract from the startled thump of his heart.

“Touch yourself while thinking about me often?” he asked, on impulse.

Lance’s blue eyes shot open, cheeks pinkening with embarrassment. _Cute._

Keith bit down on a grin.

The blue shrunk, narrowing into a scowl. “Fuck you,” Lance murmured, tugging Keith down by the hair to bite vengefully at his bottom lip.

Keith groaned against Lance’s mouth. He decided he liked Lance best like this. Sensual and dripping wet, without a stitch of clothing. Clever, snappy, his damp belly plastered to Keith’s. Unafraid to use his teeth. Just as stubborn and strong-willed as he was in all things.

Keith felt himself smiling. “What was it you were imagining, Lance? Hm?”

“Your cock inside me,” Lance breathed mischievously, low and musical.

The words sent a jolt of shocked arousal right to Keith’s cock.

 _“Fuck,”_ he growled, pressing Lance’s hips flat.

They were wedged between the tile and Keith’s thighs. Keith smeared his hands down their wet curves and licked into Lance’s whining mouth. He devoted a minute of his time to thoroughly ravishing Lance, learning the snag of his tongue, his nipping teeth, the texture of the roof of his mouth. He tasted like the fading sting of mint and like shower water. Keith stroked his tongue against Lance’s until Lance was less a person and more a beating heart, a series of spine-tingling sensations all gathered up against Keith’s chest.

By the time he was done, Lance’s belly was heaving and he’d turned to slush in Keith’s arms. His eyes were soft with a sort of sex-fog. It was so easy to unravel him, now that he knew Lance's weak spots. Keith's satisfaction was sharp and glinting. It was also currently at war with his hunger.

Hunger won out.

He began to kiss madly down Lance's bared throat, overwhelmed by all the things he wanted to do to Lance, to watch Lance do to him. “One of these days that mouth is gonna get you in a world of trouble.”

Lance was panting gorgeously against the tile, cheeks flushed. “If trouble looks anything like you,” he said, “I’m … _ah_ … not complaining.”

A ripple of pleasure rushed through Keith. This was insanity. He hadn't pursued a requited crush since middle school and the giddy exhilaration of it was doing funny things to his body. Things like butterflies in the belly and starry eyes. His hands were going to clam up if he didn't give them something to do soon. Keith had never been so intimately at the mercy of Lance.

He had to fuck him. Right here. He needed to be inside Lance and pulsing.

“Why I want you so badly when you drive me crazy is beyond me,” he said into the skin of Lance’s throat, and let himself indulge in an angry love bite or two, mottled blue-purple against Lance’s brown.

He reveled in the knowledge that they would be there tomorrow, hidden behind Lance’s high-collar as he went about his day as usual.

Lance laughed beneath him, cheeks dimpling up into something delighted. “I think you just answered your own question.”

“Shut up.”

“Mkay,” Lance sighed, smiling, then promptly did the opposite. “There’s also my dashing good looks, of course.”

“Of course.”

“My ass, perhaps.”

“That,” Keith said, shortly. “Yes.”

Lance laughed, again. “Hm,” he said, as Keith kissed down the column of his throat. He raked his fingers through Keith’s dark hair and Keith wanted to purr from it only slightly. He sensed Lance's smirk, dawning bright as a sunrise. “Or was it my personality that ensnared our great black paladin … ?”

“Your black paladin declines to answer,” Keith said, and Lance laughed harder, head thrown back. Keith decided he liked the sound even better than Lance's moans. “Try again at a later date.”

“Keith.”

“Mm,” Keith said, noncommittally, because he was currently committing all of his energy to marking Lance up where everyone would, ideally, be able to see tomorrow, Garrison uniform be damned.

“Keith ...”

Keith blinked and lifted his head.

Lance tucked his bottom lip behind his front teeth. He looked like he was weighing his next words.

Keith stared, a little light-headed. “I want to kiss your mouth some more,” he blurted.

That earned him a pleased smile. “I would much rather you put your cock in it,” Lance said, with a distressing amount of earnestness.

Keith froze, rendered speechless. He felt his eyebrows draw down in alarm and dove back in to resume his neck-kisses with a newer, angrier urgency.

Lance giggled, head tilted back to endure the onslaught. “Wanna suck your cock, Keith,” he said in his soft, flaying whisper. He started lowering himself to his knees in front of Keith. “Want you filling my mouth.”

Keith attempted to catch him around his waist, but Lance evaded, nimble and slippery. With a surprised huff, Keith’s kissing mouth went skidding up Lance’s neck, then cheek, then temple. It left Lance completely as he slid past Keith and sank fully to the ground, settling in on his knees. He hooked his fingers through Keith’s belt loops and tugged.

Keith went stumbling forward with heavy, clunking steps. “You – don’t need to,” he said hoarsely, eyes glued to Lance sitting in a naked kneel on the tile, cock hard and flushed, pink tongue poking out from between his lips. 

Keith’s cock disagreed. Currently, it was saying Lance needed to, right now, immediately.

Lance sent him an unimpressed look. “Obviously, idiot. The point is that I _want_ to.”

“That’ll be hell on your knees.”

“Oh, I hope you’re hell on more than just my knees,” Lance said, and yanked Keith’s trousers down without another word about it.

He fell upon Keith’s cock like a starving animal.

Keith caught himself one-handed against the tile and groaned as Lance mouthed at his hard, girthy cock through his boxers, shaping the monstrous length with his lips. His tongue flicked out, stroked over the glans in a wet caress. Keith’s cock felt suffocated, and doted on. It tingled at the tip, spurting more precome. A dark little wet spot was forming at the front of his boxers.

“Fuck. Lance,” he cursed, digging his teeth into his own bicep to stifle a savage grunt as Lance pressed a gentle, kittenish kiss to the tip of his cock, his eyes on Keith’s face. He parted his pink lips and suckled wetly at the head, humming, blinking up at Keith through the fan of his damp lashes. _“Ah –”_

Lance unhinged his jaw, made his mouth go big and gaping so he could huff against Keith’s erection like a panting dog, tongue out. _You like my cock that much?_ Keith wanted to say, only his brain was currently mush, so he just stood there and stared like an uncomprehending idiot. It gave Lance time to pull back and lick his lips. They shone under a new coat of saliva, pretty and bowed. Keith was fixating on their shape when Lance brought a hand up and rubbed at his thick cock through his soaking boxers, running the fabric over the sensitive flesh as it began to fill out the final inch.

Lance watched Keith’s cock jerk and rise under the attention, fighting against its own weight. It pushed insistently at the seam of his spit-slick mouth through Keith’s boxers, heavy with blood. The desperate heft was a little embarrassing until Lance whispered the words, “Oh, you’re big,” right up against Keith’s straining cock.

Then it was much less embarrassing, more hot.

Lance sounded appreciative, fluttered his lashes up at Keith and traced down Keith’s slit with the tip of his wet tongue.

 _Jesus, this. This is going to kill me,_ Keith thought distantly, his cock giving a hard lurch.

It oozed precome against Lance’s lips and Keith felt certain Lance knew, because he breathed a pleased little laugh. “You gonna fit in my mouth, Keith? Or am I gonna have to gag my way through you?”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, cock throbbing. He was slightly alarmed by how much he wanted to see that. Lance, gagging on all eight inches of him. Lance, leaking spit at either corner of his pretty little mouth.

“Shit …” Keith muttered. “If I’d known you had such a dirty fucking mouth …”

Lance removed Keith’s swollen cock from his boxers and gave it a few unhurried strokes, mastering its length and girth with the curve of his palm. The pad of his thumb traced up a bulging vein. He bit his lip and studied it with reverence. “If you’d known … ?”

“Would have fucked you quiet sooner,” Keith whispered, picturing it. “Right in the middle of the Black Lion, where anyone could see. You, down on your knees. Drooling over my cock.”

Lance’s breath hitched, then sped considerably. “Oh,” he whispered back, heated. “Is that what you want? Wanna fuck my mouth?”

Keith pried his eyes open and stared down at him, propping his head up with the arm he had braced against the tile. Affection welled in his belly. He found this version of Lance – wide-eyed and drunk on sex, amenable to all of Keith's whims – ridiculously endearing. Keith knew it was showing on his face. His gaze was molten warmth. It swam against the scene they made together.

Something out of the bad porn Keith loved jerking off to as a teenager. Two boys stumbling together in the locker room shower. Except this was different. This was sentimental, somehow. Mouth-fucking in their old flight school as adults, like two magnets drawn together. Keith’s long, veiny cock jutting from the open fly of his trousers, an inch from Lance’s full mouth.

It was certainly an interesting conclusion to their old rivalry. And so hot Keith could come just thinking about it.

Fed up, he took his cock in hand, batting Lance’s away, and angled it at his face. He slapped it against Lance’s cheek with a soft smacking sound. His breath was ragged like he’d been running.

“Enough talking from you,” Keith said. “Open.”

Lance’s mouth fell open without hesitation, nice and wide, the perfect burrow to bury a cock inside. His lashes flickered butterfly-quick. He wanted it. So fucking bad and Keith wanted it just as bad, cock aching.

“Yeah …” he crooned, rubbing his shiny cockhead over Lance’s lips and lolled tongue, drawing swirls with the slit, mixing spit and precome.

Keith’s pulse raced. He traced Lance’s lips with the blunt head of his cock, following the circle his mouth made, savouring the image of him waiting to take it, patient and pliant as wax. Mouth a wide gape. Keith was going to enjoy nudging inside that. Every inch. Lance was going to take it.

_Fuck._

He felt dirty. Indecent, out in the open, where anyone might stroll by and see him, half-clothed and panting, fucking Lance’s sweet throat silent. He slapped his cock softly against Lance’s tongue, a total of three times, goaded by the tiny wet noises and Lance’s answering moan.

“You want your mouth fucked?” Keith whispered, appalled with himself and unable to stop. “Wanna choke on my thick cock like a pretty little slut?”

“Uh-huhh,” Lance whined, drooling right up against Keith’s hard cock, and the horror vanished under Keith's wild arousal.

“Fuck. Look how cock-hungry you are,” Keith murmured in awe. He took a nice handful of Lance’s damp hair between the fingers of his free hand to angle his head just right. “Spit. Get it nice and wet for me.”

Lance shut his eyes and spit a long line of saliva down Keith’s cock.

Keith watched it run down the length of his shaft, warm and wet. “Now clean it up for me,” he ordered, feeling raw and frayed open.

Lance blinked his eyes open to hold Keith’s gaze. The ratio of blue-to-black – iris-to-pupil – was unfathomable, and warmly seductive. Lance licked a slow, wet stripe up Keith’s cock, spreading saliva with the flat drag of his tongue. He hummed happily as he went, like there was no place he’d rather be, and dipped forward against the grip Keith had on his hair to suck his cockhead into his mouth. He made a pleased little sound around his huge mouthful. It sent sensation lighting up Keith’s spine.

_“Shit.”_

Lance moaned in reply and sealed Keith’s cock up in the warm heat of his mouth, ducking to force it down to the halfway point. He swallowed around the thick intrusion, drew back a moment later so it slid from his mouth with a wet _pop,_ then lowered his head for seconds. It was swallow and retreat, swallow and retreat, Lance catching Keith’s cock in his mouth whenever it slipped free, gaining speed and ground, creating a hungry pattern for himself. His saliva was everywhere – dripping from Keith’s cock, dribbling down Lance’s chin and neck as he slobbered around the shaft, trying to suck spit and precome back into his mouth only to smear it down Keith’s cock all over again.

Keith tightened his fist around the base of his cock as he watched with jagged pants. He caught the stray spit with knuckles, slid his hand up his shaft to meet Lance’s mouth halfway. In turn, Lance mouthed at Keith’s knuckles, chasing them back down his heavy cock.

It was by far and large the sloppiest, sexiest blowjob Keith had ever received. Lance’s blue eyes were trained on him from below, his lips bright and glistening, stretched wide open around Keith’s cock. Keith could feel his own pulse beating – _pounding_ – at his cock, he was so turned on.

“Mmh,” he groaned, gaze lust-blown. “F-fuck … just like that … Lance, _ah._ Fuck. Your mouth. Feels. So good on my cock, baby.”

Lance moaned and took Keith deeper, three-fourths of the way down.

“Fuck. That’s it,” Keith encouraged. “You like a little praise, don’t you?”

Lance’s eyes slipped shut and he made a new, high sound around Keith’s cock, bobbing his head in confirmation. His nose was hitting Keith’s groin on every downstroke now, so deep he could feel the flutter of Lance’s throat squeezing down around the head of his cock.

“Such a loud, dirty mouth. So perfect on my cock,” Keith praised quietly, watching in pleased disbelief as Lance sucked harder, whining around all the cock in his mouth. The flush on his brown cheeks deepened. “Jesus. So beautiful. Okay. H … hang on. Hold still for me for a second?”

Lance stilled immediately, holding Keith’s cock in his warm mouth. He waited with patient obedience for Keith’s next command. The ease with which he was taking orders tonight, like he’d do anything if only Keith asked it of him, lodged itself deep in the pit of Keith’s stomach. It bloomed there, beating hot and bloody. It was the shock of successfully subduing Lance, of conquering him and his defiance, almost too intense to bear.

“Why is it that you have such a hard time taking orders from me as your black paladin,” Keith murmured, thumbing at Lance’s lips pulled open around the girth of his cock, “but when I’ve got my dick down your mouth you’ll do whatever I say?”

Lance sent Keith a dirty look and wrapped a hand around the base of Keith’s cock like a reproach. Keith's own hand fell away. Lance tongued his way up the length, languid, until it left his mouth completely. A string of saliva connected the head to his tongue and – _fuck,_ was that hot.

He was still glaring when he took Keith’s shaft back into his mouth, slow and punishing. It didn’t stop a hungry moan from escaping him as he sucked, though, rubbing swirls into the insides of his cheeks with Keith’s cockhead. The left and right side alternately bulged, skin shaping Keith’s cock. Lance laved the crown with lazy tongue-kisses.

“Grumpy,” Keith murmured fondly, then stuttered through a curse as Lance scraped his teeth down Keith’s cock. “Lance – !”

Lance pulled Keith’s cock from his mouth with a damp pant. _“You’re_ the rude grump. _I’m_ the nice guy giving you the best goddamn blowjob of your life.” Then he latched onto Keith’s cock anew, sucking at it sideways with rolled eyes.

Keith’s brow wrinkled. He stroked a finger down Lance’s temple, tracking the way Lance tilted his head into the contact. “You want me to start being nicer to you?”

Lance made an _mmm_ noise in the affirmative, which made it sound like he was moaning approvingly to the taste of Keith’s erect cock, and that was almost too hot to think about.

“I was only rude because you were,” Keith told him. His breath came in shallow bursts. “I didn’t know I could have this.”

If he’d known, he would have it already.

Lance pulled off of Keith a second time, looking exasperated. “Well, you can. And do,” he said, pointedly. “Now are you going to fuck my mouth or stand there looking regretful all day?”

Keith huffed something close to a chuckle. He gripped Lance’s head with both hands, mouth pulling up into a crooked smile. “Fine. Yeah, yes. Okay. You ready?”

Lance cocked an eyebrow gamely. “No gag reflex,” he informed Keith.

 _“Lance,”_ Keith swore, dark and blasphemous. He surged forward, cramming every inch of his cock inside of Lance’s pliant mouth.

The heat was sweeping, centred at Keith's cock and traveling his body like a tremor. Keith shoved forward all the way to the back of Lance’s throat, then drew back out again with an _ah, ah yeah._ His cock was the angry red of a delayed orgasm. Of dragging his pleasure out, stretched and sticky. He could feel his own seismic need in his balls, hanging tight and heavy between his legs.

“Fuck. Ohh. Baby,” Keith growled, fucking back into Lance’s pretty mouth.

His thick cock was drenched, dripping with Lance’s spit. He pulled out only to jam his shaft back inside, into that tight, tight suction. It was a vice around him, warm and constricting like he was making space for himself between Lance's teeth. Lance’s lips molded to the shape of Keith’s cock, throat spasming around every wet, gasping suck-swallow he took.

Keith pulled him onto his cock harder, faster, losing himself to the rocking rhythm, the wet slurp of Lance's mouth. He watched Lance take it over and over again, grunting roughly at the sight. Lance moaned in answer, cheeks hollowed. His eyes fell shut like he loved it, couldn’t get enough of Keith’s cock, never wanted it to leave his mouth.

“Jesus. Fuck,” Keith groaned.

Lance’s tongue worked him over, wetting him up real good, swallowing Keith to the hilt with no effort. Keith could feel his tingling cockhead hitting the back of Lance’s flexing throat on every entry, bumping Lance’s lips clumsily on every exit. Six, seven increasingly erratic thrusts later and Keith was nearly coming down his mouth.

He forced himself to pull back, agony though it was, and hauled Lance off of his cock with a curse. He held his fucked-out head up by a fistful of hair.

Lance gasped his way through several deep breaths, a flush of exertion smudged over either cheek. His eyes wore a distant gloss, mouth wet with spit and precome. Keith swiped a track of drool from his chin and spent a mournful moment imagining his brown, freckled face covered in semen – white come stuck to his lashes, caught on his open mouth. A complete come-facial would be ideal, but Keith had other plans.

“Stand up,” he made himself say. “And turn around.”

Lance was unsteady when he pushed to his feet, so Keith intervened, helping him up and around with hands to his waist. He made a confused, lost noise over the running water that Keith shushed away, brushing a mollifying kiss across his shoulders. Lance found a cool spot against the tile where the water didn’t reach. He splayed his hands flat and laid his head there, chest rising and falling unevenly as he awaited Keith’s next command.

Keith dropped heavily to his knees behind Lance and took his wiggling hips in hand. They jolted, spine curving in anticipation. Keith forced them still. He let himself look, long and hard, idly fingering the little concaves that made up the dimples of Lance’s back.

“Keith,” came Lance’s imploring whine, from above.

 _Fuck,_ Keith thought, eloquently.

His ears buzzed. He covered Lance’s peachy little ass with two possessive palms. The cheeks almost fit in his hands perfectly, fingers spanning plump flesh. Keith hooked his thumbs beneath them and pulled until the cheeks parted for him.

“Fuck,” Keith said, aloud. “You need something up here pronto, don’t you? Filling your little ass up like it deserves?”

“Oh. Y-yes,” Lance stammered into the tile.

The image of his long, pale fingers against Lance’s brown cheeks was going to stick with him for a while yet. It satisfied something secret and greedy in Keith. He kneaded the cheeks in slow circles, watching water droplets roll down the skin. He spread them a second time, desperate to glimpse that filthy furl of flesh hidden and waiting for his mouth.

When he spotted it, tight and furrowed, Keith had the loud, clamouring thought of, _Mine._

He didn’t bother to correct himself, just leaned in and blew a hot breath over Lance’s wet rim. Lance let out a scandalised little gasp, tried to straighten out of Keith’s hold like Keith was flustering him. Keith liked that. The reaction itself and the notion that he could elicit it, both.

“Hold still for me,” he murmured, and bit gently at Lance’s left asscheek in warning, right over a tiny mole. He leaned back to watch the white ring of teeth marks fade, then slapped the cheek from the side – _smack!_ – and studied the pinkening flesh as it jiggled. This time, the mark Keith left behind was slow to fade. “Gonna eat you out.”

Lance relented finally, tipping his hips back, cheek squished to tile. “Oh, god …” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut. His face was rosy with arousal, pink mouth hanging agape.

Fuck, but he was gorgeous like this.

Keith took one last look at him, committing it to memory, then lowered his head to mouth at his balls, working his slow and meticulous way up. He’d never done this for anyone, hadn’t been asked or ever felt particularly inclined with any past sexual partners, but something about Lance’s ass moved men, and mountains. Anyway, it couldn’t be that hard. And if by some miracle it _was,_ Keith was going to set about becoming proficient at it. He wanted Lance crying.

No, scratch that – sobbing. He wanted Lance sobbing and begging for his dick. That was where he was setting his threshold for success. Anything less would be a failure.

Spurred to action, Keith aimed his mouth. He licked a line up the cleft of Lance’s ass, pleased to find it fresh and clean against his seeking tongue. Lance tasted as Keith had expected – like skin, and water. Keith gave chase to the water, following droplets down Lance’s ass with his tongue. He sucked them away like he was parched, groaned and spread Lance’s cheeks open to mouth over his convulsing hole. It was so tight, all closed up against his mouth. With the tip of his tongue, he traced over the slick opening, and Lance’s first noise of pleasure eked out – a tiny _oh, uuhh._

He was trembling, Keith realised, and as he pulled back to gauge Lance’s reaction in full, his thighs widened, hips cocking back uncertainly to tempt Keith back.

Oh. This – was good. This was fun. Keith liked this.

He hummed and drew warm strokes over Lance’s puffy opening with his tongue. Little details and cues jumped out at him. The way Lance’s ass was rhythmically squeezing and releasing, as though it had been trained to do so through routine practice. There was the unfamiliar texture. The taste of Lance’s sweat, faintly salty. His restlessness rose tenfold when he had a tongue near his ass, Keith found, so he blindly caught one of Lance’s ankles, clasped his hand around it to hold it still, then smoothed his palm up Lance’s calf, his wet thigh.

Lance made a soft little sound at that, half-sigh, half-whine.

Keith wanted his tongue inside of Lance. The realisation wasn't all that surprising, considering, and it arrived too late. Keith was readying for it already. He teased Lance open, swirling circles over his entrance, wriggling his tongue against the opening.

“Keith! _Keith, oh – !”_ Lance gasped and he felt a hand suddenly gripping him by his bangs, holding him in place, face to Lance’s ass, and that was hot as hell, how he could just take his pleasure from Keith. He used his free hand to hold his ass open wider and shoved back onto Keith’s tongue with a mewl. “Oh, fuck. F – f … oh! _Uhn!”_

Lance was jittering on the balls of his feet again, bowing forward as if in pain. He snatched the hand he had on his ass back, slammed it down on the tile to hold himself upright and steady. Moans poured from him with astonishing immodesty now. Keith pulled back to catch his breath and found Lance half-limp against the tile, crushing his sweaty forehead into his arm, eyes screwed shut.

He had to know. “Has anyone ever done this for you before?”

Lance shook his head quickly, shoved the wet bangs back from his eyes. His face was pink with pleasure. Keith could sense the truth of it, in how readily he was giving his reactions up, like they were new and startling.

“Good,” he whispered, and buried his face in Lance’s ass, finally breaching his entrance where it was clenching and gaping from the tease, trying to welcome Keith’s tongue inside.

Keith speared him open on his tongue, made a low sound of approval, and pushed the cheeks of Lance’s tight ass up so he could cup the bouncy flesh in his palms. He squeezed hard, feeling primal and wolfish. He wanted to own, to claim. When he struck Lance’s ass with his open palm again, the _crack!_ resounding, Lance moaned and yanked at Keith’s hair in accidental reflex. The sting egged Keith on. He smoothed two thumbs up Lance’s cleft, rested them threateningly near his tiny wet hole while he lapped at Lance.

Lance’s next moan was nearly a shout. He bucked, then forced himself still. His mouth opened on a silent scream. He wore an expression of agony, like the pleasure was so acute it hurt. Keith felt him twist around at the waist, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of Keith licking into his ass. He tongued up Lance’s cleft, left an imprint of his teeth at the top of Lance’s right cheek, dark gaze trained on Lance.

Lance cried out and turned his head from the eye contact, scrabbling at the tile.

Keith sucked hard at that brown ring of muscle a moment, then pulled off with a wet _pop._ It quivered, leaking spit. He needed that to be his come gushing from Lance’s ass, splattered white against brown.

“Keith,” Lance moaned into his arm.

“I’m right here,” Keith murmured, tugging his ass closer. He angled it to his liking. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

Lance whined brokenly. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keith smiled and nibbled Lance’s ass. He pressed a smattering of kisses up and down the curves, one arm encircling Lance’s slight waist. “Then let me see you let go,” he said. “C’mon. I know you want to. Ride it out with me. You can move your hips, okay? Don’t hold back for me. Not when you know I can handle you.”

“Oh.”

“I like making you feel good, Lance,” Keith said, quietly. “A lot. So show me how good it feels.”

“Fuck.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, please,” Lance pleaded in his soft whine. His hips gave a little jolt when Keith pressed a final, open-mouthed kiss to his ass. _“Keith._ ”

Keith chuckled and shoved his tongue back inside of Lance without preamble. It clamped up tight against the intrusion, then shivered open again to allow Keith entrance.

With a whimper, Lance braced himself against the wall, forehead-to-tile. He was panting when he started rolling his hips against Keith’s mouth, his hungry little ass bouncing. He fucked back onto Keith’s tongue with a loud cry. They’d be lucky if the entire Garrison student population slept through this.

“Mmmm yesss,” Lance moaned, long and unselfconscious. He circled his hips, grinding tiny swivels into Keith’s mouth, rubbing up against Keith’s tongue like he loved the wet stretch. “Fuck. Keith. Oh my god. Please. _Please, yes._ Yes! Right there! Ah! Ah! AH!”

Keith fucked his tongue inside of Lance harder, his hole wide and slippery. He sank two fingers in alongside it and twisted them as deep as they’d go, searching, searching, until he located and began to repeatedly hit the shuddery pleasure-centre buried up Lance’s ass. Lance lurched, thighs slamming closed in shock. Keith wrested them open again and closed his mouth over Lance’s rim, biting, sucking, kissing wildly.

Lance thrashed against him. His next moan came out on a sobbing intake of air.

Keith pulled back with a pant, shot an incredulous look up, and was startled to find tears rolling down Lance’s cheeks.

“Holy fuck,” Keith breathed.

 _“Keith,”_ Lance cried.

“Yeah,” Keith said, stupidly. “Yeah, yes. Right here. You want another finger, sweetheart?”

Lance was inconsolable. He nodded into his arm with a sniffling whimper.

Keith held his writhing little hips firm, easing a third finger in to join the previous two. Lance took three digits like a champ. Feeling dumbstruck, Keith began to pump them in and out of Lance’s delectable, creamy little ass, and in seconds, Lance was clenching down on the fingers with a yell.

Keith’s cock was so hard it hurt, pulsing wetly at his bare belly. More than anything, he wanted to stroke himself to completion to the sound of Lance’s delirious moans, maybe paint Lance’s ass white with his seed, but he had one hand wrapped tight around Lance’s frantic hips and the other buried up his tight ass to the last knuckles. He leaned in to lap at Lance’s hole, crooked his spit-wet fingers, coming at Lance’s prostate from a new angle, and watched him judder in shock as Keith rubbed over it mercilessly.

“No, no, no!” Lance howled, doing a one-eighty and trying to squirm away. “Gonna come! Keith, Keith – please! Inside me!”

Jesus – fuck. Yes.

Keith withdrew his tongue and his fingers, breathing hard. “Get down here, then.”

Needing no further encouragement, Lance collapsed bonelessly into Keith’s lap, straddling his hips with softly spread thighs. He caught Keith’s mouth in a kiss, parting Keith’s lips with his tongue to taste himself on Keith. Keith returned it immediately, thrown off-course by Lance’s sweet mouth, his hard cock caught between their bellies. He brought a big hand up and clutched at Lance’s waist, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. Two fingers went to Lance’s cheeks, wiping his tears away.

Lance made an impatient noise and began to rut against Keith’s toned stomach, hips jerking, desperately seeking friction and finding only a smooth, wet glide. He whined into Keith’s mouth, displeased. Keith groaned and felt around for his cock, heavy and streaming. It was wet with precome and Lance’s spit. He steadied it, trying blindly to line himself up around Lance’s kisses.

“Hurry, hurry. I need it,” Lance demanded in a needy mumble. He buried his blushing face in Keith’s neck and rocked his hips harder.

“Slow down,” Keith said around a breath of laughter. “Hang on. Lance. I can’t fuck you if you won’t stop squirming.”

“And I can’t stop squirming if you won’t fuck me.”

Keith guided Lance’s head up and chuckled into the next kiss he pressed against his pouting mouth. “Hold still for me, okay?” he murmured, biting Lance’s bottom lip scoldingly.

Lance’s eyes flickered shut and he moaned softly, submitting to Keith’s request by arching his back beautifully and holding himself motionless. He ducked his head, sweaty forehead to Keith’s jaw, and quieted with a gentle sigh.

“Thank you,” Keith whispered, nosing his way back to Lance’s mouth to kiss him as he slid into Lance.

The shove was slow and cautious. Keith drove his cock into the welcoming clench of Lance’s wet hole, halfway in and already gasping. Lance seemed less lost. He moaned contentedly into Keith’s mouth, squeezing down on Keith’s cock. Keith made a desperate, punched-out noise.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “So tight, baby. Warm and tight around my cock.”

Lance linked his arms behind Keith’s shoulders and leant back, head tilted gorgeously. Keith watched sweat run down the curve of his throat. Slowly, he bore down on the long, thick length of Keith’s cock. With sensuous little rolls of his hips, the huge shaft began to disappear between his cheeks. His cock bounced against his belly as he rocked down to take it all.

It was a slow few moments of Keith hissing through clenched teeth until Lance was fully seated in his lap, the meat of his ass heavy against Keith’s aching balls. Lance was warm and weighty, slick satin around Keith’s cock.

“You’re huge,” Lance breathed. “Oh, shit. Keith.” And he stirred his hips with a dreamy sigh, rim strangling Keith’s cock, like he was loving all eight inches.

Keith gripped his hips hard and bruising. “Take what you need,” he gritted out, handing Lance the reins.

“Gonna ride you so good,” Lance said, sighing happily.

He propped himself up with two hands to Keith’s shins and stretched out into a hot little arch. His spine was one long inward curve, belly and nipples jutting into the air. Keith swallowed against the lump in his throat and held back a brutal thrust, narrowly avoiding catastrophe. His balls were burning with the strain of not moving. Of not thrusting between those perfect little thighs.

_“Lance.”_

“One sec,” Lance said, smiling, as he held his stretch effortlessly, head flung back.

All Keith could see of his face was the slope of his neck, the point of his chin.

“Jesus. Why are you this flexible?”

Lance lifted his head to look at Keith, eyes bright. He allowed himself a moment more to loosen up against Keith’s cock, ass relaxing around the thick shaft. Keith could feel it like a living thing breathing around his cock. He watched Lance shimmy his hips, wriggling from left to right and back again.

“I did gymnastics growing up,” he said cheerfully. “You could fold me in half and fuck me like that if you wanted to.”

Keith groaned. “Never mind. You’re making it worse.”

A peal of laughter rang out. Lance grinned and Keith wanted badly to kiss him. He was almost certain he wouldn’t be able to reach, though. And maybe Lance sensed that Keith was at the end of his rope, because he crab-walked forward an inch, palms moving up Keith’s shins to brace himself against his knees.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” Lance said, testing his weight against Keith’s kneecaps.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Lance.”

Lance huffed. “Alright, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”

Then, with an upper-body strength Keith found slightly alarming, mostly impressive, he began to work himself up and down Keith’s big cock. His hips snapped up, then slid slowly down again to take Keith’s cock back into his tiny, tight little opening.

Keith’s head dropped forward. _“God –”_

 _“Fuuuck,”_ Lance moaned. “Oh. Yesss. Keith.”

“Yeah,” Keith panted.

“Need your cock,” Lance said, all breath.

“You have it.”

“Need it in me forever,” Lance whined.

Keith chuckled and bent to press a kiss to his clavicle. He prised Lance’s cheeks open to feel his cock sliding in and out of that gorgeous little ass with his fingers. Lance quickened his pace, bouncing furiously on Keith’s cock, his asscheeks clapping obscenely against Keith’s thighs.

“Fuck,” Keith groaned, heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. “Lance. _Ah,_ shit. Not gonna. Last long. You’re so wet, Christ.”

Lance laughed at that, rocking his hips harder. “Yeah … hah … thanks to the very skilled tongue you had shoved up my ass a few minutes ago.”

“The mouth you’ve got …” Keith grunted.

“The better to fuck your fat cock with,” Lance teased, as he sped his hips.

Keith slapped a hand over his mouth, used the other to yank him forward and hold Lance pinioned to his chest, readjusting their weight with a bounce that made Lance yelp into his palm, ass coming down around his cock again with a sharp little _slap_ of sound.

“Is that right?”

“Keith,” Lance said into his palm, eyes wide.

“Shh, shh,” Keith said, taking Lance’s chin in hand and forcing his mouth shut, lips squeezed into a fishlike pout between Keith’s thumb and index finger. “You’re gonna hold your tongue and take my cock like a good boy, aren’t you?”

Lance nodded wordlessly.

“Good choice,” Keith whispered, and planted his knees.

Holding Lance’s eye, he began to thrust up hard and ruthless, showing off just a little. His thighs ached pleasantly with the effort of fucking into Lance, of bearing his weight, his tight little body jostled up and down Keith’s cock. Lance was making an effort not to talk, Keith could tell, but his moans seemed impossible to staunch. They came out in stifled little triplets, a melody of three:  _mmm mmm mmm._

Keith gave a few grunts to match, his cock hard as steel, and fucked into Lance’s noisy little ass harder, the _slap, slap, slap_ of their skin lewd over the sound of the shower. Lance’s ass hitting his balls was a special kind of torment. They felt swollen, full to bursting with the need to come.

Above him, Lance was trying to gyrate his hips around Keith’s ironclad grip and finding it not a little difficult. He let out his frustration in the form of whiny little moans, ass tight and desperate. He was soft as velvet around Keith’s thick cock. His hips bucked as best they could to their messy, homemade rhythm.

Keith’s breath sliced out of his mouth. He lurched up, ass flexing, to saw his cock in and out of Lance’s round ass. The position was pure torture on his muscles, but the adrenaline and endorphins felt so good he didn’t even care. Lance, for his part, was out of his mind with pleasure, eyes rolling closed.

Keith let go of his chin to slap the side of his ass. He watched the flesh jiggle around his throbbing cock.

“Fuck,” he swore, to the sight of Lance’s greedy little ass clinging to his cock. “Fuck, _fuck_ – you want me to come inside that gorgeous little ass? Huh? Yeah?”

“Mhmmm,” Lance moaned, clinging to Keith’s shoulders with one arm. The other he used to fist his own cock. He held Keith’s eye, biting his jutting lip, as he was bounced around in Keith’s lap like a doll.

“Nothing’s gonna stop me. No one. Absolutely no one,” Keith growled, tightening his hold on Lance and pounding harder into his bouncing ass. He was lost in the noisy squelch of his wet cock ramming into Lance’s heavenly heat, their grunting and whimpering coalescing into one single obscene soundtrack. “If anyone … _ah_ … walked in here right now. They’d have to stand there and watch me fill you up.”

“Fill me up,” Lance cried, undulating frantically on Keith’s cock. His rhythm was falling apart to their nearing climax. “Keith. Baby. Fill me up! Oh, fuck – fuck – _fuck!_ Right there! Fuck me right there! _Uh! Uh! Uhn!”_

“Yeah. Take it,” Keith snarled and ground his cock into Lance’s fluttering ass, hard, vicious, circling without rhyme or reason, rubbing relentlessly against Lance’s slick inner walls, his prostate. He tensed as Lance’s ass narrowed impossibly around his cock, squeezing down hard enough to hurt, and then Keith was crying out and spurting his hot, wet release into that tight channel. His cock jerked in Lance’s ass. Keith thrusted against his orgasm, pumping between Lance’s thighs, fucking his come into his tight little ass.

Lance’s hand was quick on his cock, desperate to follow Keith over the edge. Within seconds of each other, they were coming. Lance’s eyes were closed, head thrown back on a wail, as he finished all over Keith’s chest, striping him with his release.

Keith felt his cock spasm its way through a final, balls-tingling aftershock. Then it started softening, spent. Everything ached, in that good and sex-stretched way. Keith’s muscles gave a pang as he cracked his neck and groaned.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and began to gently lower them to the tile, holding Lance to his chest as he laid them out flat.

Lance nuzzled into Keith’s throat, breathing hard. His eyelashes were dark, wet and wispy against his cheeks.

There was a single moment of blissful silence, during which they basked in their post-coital glow. Then, without warning, Lance began to giggle.

Keith half-sat up, on the verge of outrage. “What are you laughing at?” he demanded, affronted.

“Your dick up my ass.”

Keith’s head thunked back down, a bark of surprised laughter spilling from him. “Real mature.”

“I don’t have to be mature. I’m not a black paladin,” Lance said snootily. “I just have to lay here and enjoy the feeling of your come leaking down my thighs.”

Miraculously, Keith’s cock gave an interested little twitch inside of Lance.

Lance lifted his head to cut a look down at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

Keith froze, belly bottoming out in dread. What did that mean? Did Lance want this to be a one-off? A little locker room fling, never to be revisited or addressed again?

Keith didn’t think he could agree to that.

“Not for at least another hour,” Lance went on, oblivious to Keith’s inner turmoil. “Obviously, we need to set some parameters. I’m not opposed to being sexy with you under risqué circumstances going forward, but I also refuse to get caught bending over for you in front of Pidge or Hunk. Or, god forbid, your freaking brother. Don’t think you can just run around fucking me anywhere you like after today and especially not before checking that I’m wearing my sex underwear first.”

“Your sex underwear,” Keith repeated, idiotically.

“They’re black and lacy, with little roses,” Lance explained. “They make my butt look really good.”

Keith’s head spun at the mental image. _Your butt always looks good,_ he thought inanely, but did not dare speak the words aloud.

“And also,” Lance went on, unimpeded, “I reserve the right to cash in on my sex privileges at any point.”

“Your sex privileges.”

"Those are the privileges I get for taking your dick up my ass. Keep up, Keith."

"You _want_ my dick!" Keith sputtered disbelievingly. "And what privileges – !"

"Be that as it may." Lance propped himself up with two elbows to Keith's chest, peering down at him with an attractive little half-smile. "My privileges include, but are not limited to: date nights with my choice of attire ... hm, kisses, hugs, cuddles, maybe chocolates if I'm feeling snacky, I'd also like to be in the loop when it comes to black paladin business and you have to agree to actually listen to my advice sometimes. By which I mean at least seventy percent of the time. Since we're now partners-in-sex, I also reserve the right to call you ‘babe.’ ‘Baby,’ if I'm feeling romantic, since you initiated that tonight. Basically all the trappings of dating, but we don't need to label it right away. I am a patient man. Oh, I want shared cosmic wolf custody, too. And you have to compliment me at least once a day. I will accept praise regarding all things physical, emotional, metaphysical, abstract – "

Keith rolled them over with an irritable grunt, ignoring Lance's splutter of protest, and shut him up with a long, enamoured kiss, which Lance soon softened up for, wrapping his arms around Keith's neck and moaning as he smiled against Keith's mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> edited for the late night bottom Lance crew (¬‿¬)


End file.
